


Taken Down A Peg

by postjentacular



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, HP: EWE, Lemon, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Pegging, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Threesome - F/M/M, smut smut smutty smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 12:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postjentacular/pseuds/postjentacular
Summary: In which Harry’s in charge, Draco takes his punishment, and Hermione really is the brightest witch of her age.





	Taken Down A Peg

“I’m bored, Potter,” Draco drawled as he slouched further into the armchair, the antithesis of hundreds of years of pureblood breeding.

“You’re supposed to be,” Harry puffed, not even bothering to look up from where he was kneeling on the bed, “you break the rules, you get punished.”

“Your rules,” Draco enunciated each word with perfect diction and complete disdain, “are thoroughly pointless and as for this so-called punishment,” he waved his hand derisively, “do I really have to sit here all night and watch you finger her like some virginal teenager?”

Harry dragged his thumbnail slowly over Hermione’s clit, and her breathless groan of delight sent a warm jolt of pleasure through him just as much as knowing they’d spited Draco.

“Oh come on, love,” Draco scoffed at her groan, “we both know his fingers aren’t that good.”

Harry looked up from his ministrations to see Draco, looking thoroughly debauched in his three piece suit: flies open, cock out. He had taken himself in hand, long slow strokes with a quick twist as he reached the head, “Can’t you restrain yourself?”

“Nope,” Draco popped the ‘p’ as he continued with his languid tugs, not breaking his rhythm.

“Maybe,” Hermione said, between pants, “you’ll need to show him how.”

Harry’s face lit up with a delighted smile, “You really are the brightest witch of our age,” he kissed her hard, his teeth nipped at her bottom lip before he trailed a line of sloppy kisses down her neck. As his lips reached between her pert breasts she looked over at Draco and smirked. 

_Fuck you_ , mouthed Draco.

_You wish_ , she replied.

Harry left a ring of gentle butterfly kisses around her bellybutton and slowly pulled his fingers from her, they glistened in the soft light. Rising from the bed, he crossed the room and stood between Draco’s spread legs; with his clean hand he clasped Draco’s still-pumping wrist and pulled it away. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly licked Hermione’s juices from his index finger; Draco watched every flick and lick of his tongue until the finger was pristine. Harry held his hand just out of reach of Draco’s own lips, two fingers still slick with her juices, knowing Draco would not make a move for them – no matter how much he wanted to suck every last drop of the musky juices from Harry’s fingers – he was better behaved than that. Harry held them there for a tantalising moment too long, then wiped them harshly on the impeccably pressed left shoulder of Draco’s shirt.

“No restraint,” Harry tutted, his lips close enough to Draco’s that their breath mingled, but too far for Draco to accidentally catch one between his teeth.

“Really?” Draco asked, eyebrow cocked, brimming with confidence that he’d not fallen for the temptation in front of him.

“Uh huh,” Harry flashed a look at Draco’s groin, where his left hand had taken over from the right which was still firmly in Harry’s grasp, “You gonna behave now?“

The smirk that played across Draco’s face said it all, Harry knew with no need for confirmation that Draco was tugging a little harder. Brat. With a single fluid motion he had Draco’s silk tie undone, pulled from his collar and wrapped around Draco’s wrist. He leaned into Draco’s chest – making sure his moistening cock left a matching stain on his right shoulder – and secured both wrists behind his back in with the silk tie. He pulled back and hunkered down, using Draco’s pointy chin as leverage he tipped his head until they were eye-to-eye, “Colour?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry didn’t blink. “Colour?”

“Green, Potter.” Draco all but spat, “Emerald, lime, chartreuse, olive, whatever shade you like.”

Harry gave a single nod, then with less finesse than one generally handles such delicate body parts he hauled Draco’s cock and balls out the top of his boxers and let the elastic snap back uncomfortably tightly underneath. He tugged his trousers down to his knees and, without so much as a by-your-leave, he turned on his heels leaving the ruddy cock bobbing from the mass of pale golden curls desperate for attention. He sat on the bed, facing Draco, and offered his hand to Hermione, “Wanna ride?”

“Yes, please,” she grinned, taking his hand to pull herself up. She spread her legs either side of his and gave Draco a waggle of her hips as she leant forward for a kiss. As Harry’s lips parted at her insistence she began to hoist herself up and straddle him. 

With resolute hands on her hips, Harry stilled her and pulled back from the kiss enough to speak, “He’s not getting to play with them,” he let one hand slide up her ribs, “at least let him see,” he squeezed her nipple into a tight bud. She nodded once as he let go of her and leant back on his elbows. Climbing above him she steadied herself with one hand behind her, fingers splayed across his chest, the other held his cock as she lowered herself onto it. Once seated, he sat up, pulled her hair back, and rested his chin on her shoulder and nibbled her earlobe.

Across from him, Draco was staring at Hermione’s breasts, one tweaked nipple standing prouder than the other. Harry slid his hands around her chest, covering her breasts, as Draco eyes flickered up to scowl at his view being hidden Harry thrust forcefully, never breaking eye contact with Draco. Leaning even closer he whispered quietly in her ear, too low for Draco to hear. Draco could tell she had heard clearly though, as the smile that spread across her face was equal parts salacious and dangerous.

“Malfoy,” Harry said, “do you like what you see?” Harry didn’t really need an answer, the ruddy, red cock that was almost quivering to be touched told him exactly that, but hearing Draco say it was as much part of the fun.

“Yes,” Draco moaned, the restraint to keep himself from humping thin air palpable in his voice.

“You wish you were me or her?” Harry punctuated his question with another forceful thrust that jiggled Hermione.

“Her, you, both, doesn’t matter,” Draco panted, “whatever you want.”

“Correct answer,” he said as he pumped harder, faster.

A few more thrusts and he could feel Hermione tightening around him, “Close,” she shouted, “so close.” 

Harry slowed and lifted her off. “Not yet love,” he said, gently batting her hand away from where she was trying to push herself over the edge, “soon.”

He crossed the room and knelt in front of Draco’s chair, “No touching,” he ran a feather-light touch down the length of Draco’s cock, “no coming,” he squeezed tight around the hilt, “not until I say.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry didn’t need to see Draco’s face to hear the eyeroll that accompanied the agreement.

A short, stinging slap sounded out across the room, Draco’s inner thigh flared red in the aftermath, “Tone,” Harry warned.

Chastised, Draco apologised, “Sorry, sir.”

Harry gently rubbed the glowing red handprint, “Rules, pet?” 

“I can’t touch my cock and I can’t come until you say,” he repeated.

“Very good,” Harry nodded, he loved that moment when Draco caved, let the desire to please overrule his arrogance. “I’m not fucking you, Draco.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow and pushed what he hoped was just the right amount of pleading into his voice, “But I look so good riding cock.”

Harry stifled a laugh, “Oh yes, you do, pet; you’re so fuckin’ beautiful stuffed full of cock.” Draco preened at the compliment. “But,” Harry’s voice rumbled deep, “mine isn’t the only cock here.”

Draco’s thoughts screeched to a halt, his eyebrow uncocked, and the little blood that hadn’t been filling his prick fell from his cheeks. This was new, this wasn’t what they did; he’d seen her cock before, he’d watched Harry struggle to take the purple monstrosity. Harry was big, but that _Thing_ was positively brobdingnagian. His thoughts got stuck on the word, _brobdingnagian, brobding-nagian, brob-ding-nag-ian_ , and he didn’t notice the wandless _diffindo_ , until his hands fell free to his sides.

Harry gave him a moment, not too long, not long enough for Draco to get lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, before he ordered him front and centre. “Present yourself.” The order brought Draco back, he knew what to do with it and slipped from the chair onto his knees and into position. Shoulders back, head up, eyes down; he knows this, it’s as natural as flying. “Eyes up,” Harry can see his eyes beginning to glaze, can see him starting to slip; he settled a palm on Draco’s cheek and when Draco leant into nuzzle it he let him. “Draco,” he said firm, but quietly, “colour?”

“Yellow.”

“Okay, we’ll go slow,” Harry ran a thumb reassuringly across Draco’s cheekbone. “You know your safe word?”

“Yes. Red,” he rapped his fist three times on floor at the same time.

“Good.” Harry sat down in the armchair, “Strip, then fetch Hermione’s cock for her.” 

Draco wasted no time stripping down, leaving his clothes in a crumpled heap at Harry’s feet. As he turned to crawl to the toy box the clothes folded themselves and floated neatly to the dresser at the flick of Hermione’s wand, Harry had no doubt she’d be thanked for that in the morning; one of the few things that infuriated Draco more than “plebeian teabags” was rumpled clothes.

At the toy box, the purple behemoth sat proudly atop their other toys, for a brief moment Draco considered taking one of their other, smaller, _friendlier_ dildos, but pushed that thought away; Harry wanted him to take this one, and – like for so long – Draco wanted nothing more than to please him. With the dildo between his lips he crawled back to Hermione, she took it with a simple thanks and indicated he should get up onto the bed. He lay down on his back and hooked his elbows under his knees, spreading himself open. He hated this part, lying there open for inspection, waiting. Harry usually moved quickly, fingers or tongue in before his head hit the pillow, but Hermione took longer, tightening, adjusting, squirming her way around the harness.

“All fours, pet,” Harry’s instruction cut through the otherwise silent room, “and I want to hear you. Count the fingers for me.” Draco rolled over and onto all fours as Hermione knelt high on the bed behind him.

She gently ran a generously lubed finger around his rim once, twice, before letting the first finger sink in. Draco took it easily and he’d barely started the count before a second slid in alongside and she scissored them wide. Her fingers worked methodically, stretching and easing as her other hand traced nondescript patterns around his balls and perineum. “Three,” he huffed as her finger glanced over his most sensitive spot; “there-more-harder-ready… please,” the words tumbled out of his mouth without filter, and she obliged him with a drum of her fingers that filled his vision with stars. “Now,” he panted, “need it now.”

He felt the bed dip and Harry’s warm, heavy hand ran down the knobs of his spine, “Not yet, pet. You’re still too tight, relax for us.” Draco deepened his breathing and bore down, another finger slid in, but it was bigger, rougher, one of Harry’s; he moaned through the stretch.

The crack of flesh smacking flesh pulled him up, the sound of the slap hit him before the pain and warmth. He didn’t need to be told what he’d done. “Four.” When another of Harry’s fingers joined, he didn’t hesitate, “Five”.

Five fingers staccatoed across his prostate, it was too much, “Please,” Draco huffed, “I’m gonna come.” He tried to focus on anything but the pleasure building deep in his belly: Quidditch league tables, dates of the Great Wars, lists of potions ingredients. He’d got to Felix Felicis’ Murtlap Tentacle when the tug and snap of a cock ring tightening into place flooded him with relief. Fingers squelched and stretched, scissored and stroked for a few minutes more, before they pulled out one by one. Arse in the air, hole loose, Draco waited while behind him Harry lubed-up Hermione’s cock between filthy, teeth-clattering snogs. He risked turning to watch the pair of them, a half-peek between limbs he hoped would go unnoticed. 

It didn’t.

It never did.

She saw him first, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to, Harry could see it in her face. “Eyes forward, pet,” he ordered, “or do you want the blindfold?” Draco said nothing as he snapped forward again. Harry didn’t need to check he’d complied, he knew he would, “Good boy.” Harry sat down at the head of the bed, “Still yellow?” he asked, Draco nodded in response, “She’s gonna go slow, but she’s not gonna stop unless you safeword out. You understand?” Draco nodded again, dipping his head away. “Pet, look at me, I need to hear you.”

Draco looked up through the strands of hair flopping across his face, “I know, not gonna stop, just…” he trailed off.

Harry lay down then slid himself under Draco’s elevated form, “Okay,” he said, swiping the hair out of Draco’s eyes, “relax and bear down for her.”

The head of her cock pushed at his rim; hard, unyielding, _unforgiving_. The stretch burned and as he grimaced through the pain; warm solid fingers wrapped around his cock, firm unhurried strokes to divide his attention. 

“No,” he gasped. 

Harry shook his head at Hermione, “Draco, colour.”

“Green,” Draco muttered softly, “sorry, sir.” He took a few ragged breaths, “Please, faster.”

Harry shook his head at Hermione again, then gave Draco’s nipple a sharp tweak, “Greedy.” 

Eventually, with what he could have sworn was an audible pop, the bulbous head thrust past his rim and the customary pause Harry always gave to get use to the fullness never came. Hermione continue to drive slow and steady, and with each of his pants Draco pushed back as hard as he dared.

Hermione’s hands gripped a little tighter to Draco’s hips, “Doing well, half way”

_Half way!_ He’d never been so full in his life, but it just kept going; he had no doubt that without the cock ring he’d’ve shot himself dry by now.

Finally, he felt her pelvis bump against his buttocks and she stilled, “So good,” she cooed and when Draco let his eyes wander for just a moment he saw Harry hiding a self-satisfied smirk which he _certainly_ hadn’t picked up from Draco. She pulled back till all but the tip tickled his rim before she slammed back in up to the hilt forcing the most delightful scream from him. Harry almost came from the sound of the scream alone. The three of them quickly built up a rhythm: Hermione thrust, Harry stroked, Draco chanted. 

_please please please_

With a banished cock ring and one word from Harry, Draco came hard; his orgasm shuddered through his body, spunk coating his chest. He collapsed exhausted onto an equally spent Harry, seed and sweat smeared between their torsos. Hermione pulled out as quickly as she dared, she unstrapped herself then under Harry’s watchful eye and her own deft fingers she came.

Harry rolled Draco over onto his side and Hermione big-spooned in behind him as Harry slipped out of bed. Draco melted into her as she murmured about how well he’d done. Harry came back to bed, freshly _tergeo_ ed and dressed in pair of flannel pyjama bottoms, he’d brought a bowl of warm water and a soft towel to gently wash away the mess they’d made. 

Clean and dry the three of them sunk under the covers. Harry fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, glasses still on and his arm wrapped protectively around Draco. Almost nothing would wake him now. Hermione plucked the glasses from his face and set them down on the bedside cabinet before sliding in tight against Draco’s other side.

“Happy?” she asked.

“He’s a hard taskmaster, but, yeah,” Draco nodded, “happy.”

“Did the punishment not fit the crime?” 

“Was a little disproportionate, don’t you think?” 

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, “Really?”

“Mmm hmm,” Draco confirmed, “if you don’t believe me, the next time you _‘unconstructively critique’_ his cooking, I’ll shove that monstrosity up your arse and you can see for yourself.”

“Promise?”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Standard fanfic disclaimer:** If you recognise it, it belongs to J.K. Rowling; this is just fanfic for nothing other than entertainment purposes.


End file.
